


Innocence Lost

by CuddleyCat1



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Demon Sex, Dominance, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Minor Character Death, Rape, Sexual Tension, Submission, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddleyCat1/pseuds/CuddleyCat1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young Dragonborn is seduced by The King of Rape and Lord of Domination himself, Molag Bal. He not only steals her virginity, but takes her mortality and corrupts her innocence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. House of Horrors

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my very first fanfic. If you haven't done the House of Horrors quest yet and are planning to, you may not want to read this because this story may contain spoilers. Also, this is kind of, or very different, than the usual stories of Molag Bal. I just put my own twist to it. Just a heads up, the Dragonborn in this story is only 16. Sure she is underage in our world, but in the Elder Scrolls world it isn't really a big deal. I like to look at it as a young woman, still trying to find the strength in her, has her innocence corrupted, because that's what Molag Bal loves to do. I look forward to reading feedback :)

Freyja paced the Dwemer city of Markarth, hoping the beautiful, ancient architecture would ease her mind on things. The frosty air of Skyrim filled her lungs as she inhaled deeply.

The pressure of being the Dragonborn was too much for her. She couldn't handle being depended on by everyone. She was so young, only sixteen years old.

She was a breathtakingly beautiful Nord. She generally captivated the hearts of many men, although her reaction was to flee from them in fear of intimacy. She had long, natural white blonde hair, magnificent icy blue eyes, and porcelain skin. Her perfectly sculpted face was bright and youthful. She was normally very shy for a Nord, but there was a certain witty, fire about her. That outstanding Nordic temperament will shine in certain situations. She had a slim, athletic body. Anyone can tell that she was strong just by looking at her, but possibly her biggest flaw was her self-pity. She dwelled on the thought of her as unworthy of being Dragonborn.

As she continued her stroll, she noticed a man standing directly ahead of her path with his arms crossed. She couldn't see his face under his hooded robes, but he appeared to be an Imperial. She contiued to walk forward without making eye contact with him, until she felt a hand grab her arm.

"Excuse me miss, do you know anything about this abandoned house?" She turned around to see the same man with a worried expression.

She hesitated for a moment, "I'm sorry, but I'm new to this place. I don't know much about anything."

He sighed and let go of her arm. "I have been wondering around Markarth for a while, and nobody has yet to claim that they have seen anyone come in or out. I'm just looking for any suspicious activity. Anything at all."

Freyja wondered what exactly he meant by 'suspicious activity,' but she didn't bother asking. She wouldn't mind a distraction off of the stress burying her alive. "Well, would you like some help?"

His face lit up. "Oh, yes! Finally a generous person in this town willing to lend a hand! Alllow me to introduce myself. I am Vigilant Tyranus."

Vigilant? That word seemed familiar to her. She thought about it for a second, then shrugged it off. "My name is Freyja. Nice to meet you."

He politely shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you too, Freyja."

As soon as they walked in, the house felt very empty, but at the same time felt as if they weren't alone. Everything seemed normal, and the house appeared to show no sign of old age. There was fresh food on the tabels and candles still lit.

Vigilant Tyranus walked around nervously, inspecting every corner. "I think this house is involved with Daedra worship. Be careful, Daedra are powerful tricksters, and should be taken with extreme caution at all costs."

Freyja suddenly remembered what 'Vigilant' meant...Daedra hunters. Their goal was to drive out any form of Daedra worship, from witches and sorcerers to vampires and werewolves. She felt a sudden dread, making her feel sick. She wanted no part of the Daedra.

They continued searching around the house. Out of nowhere, a loud noise came from downstairs. Tyranus took off running toward the noise, only to be stopped by a locked door. 

"Do you think you can open this door?" Tyranus asked. Freyja examined the keyhole. "I can try. I have some lockpicks." She walked to the door with a handful of lockpicicks.

All of a sudden, a deep, menacing voiced boomed inside her head. "Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him!"

She dropped the lockpicks. Her body immediatly tensed up at the sound of the voice, paralyzing her for a few minutes. At the same time, furniture and items started thrashing around the room in a poltergeist-like manner.

Tyranus panicked, and ran upstairs yelling "Stendarr's mercy! This isn't an ordinary Daedra! We have to get help!"

Freyja ran all the way upstairs after him, only to be impeded by the front door. Tyranus nervously asked her to leave first. 

As soon as she touched the door, the malevolent voice shook the entire room once more, "No! Kill him! Crush his bones! Tear at his flesh! You will kill, or you will die!"

Tyranus suddenly forgot his righteousness and shouted at the unknown entity inside his head, "Get out of my head Daedra!" 

Suddenly, he pulled out his dagger and proceeded to attack Freyja. Unfortunatly, she had no choice but to defend herself. Her adrenaline kicked in, and she pulled out her swored and impaled him through his abdomen, quickly killing him without trying.

This seemed to amuse the voice, "Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down." The voice sparked feelings within her that she had never felt before. Vibrations shook the ground beneath her feet.

What is this entitity? What did it want with her? A million questions sprang in her head. 

The previously locked door is somehow now open. She walked further into the house. She turned the corner to a strange altar, where a rusty mace awaited.

Amazed, she reached for the mace when, to her dismay, a set of spikes immediately sprang up from the floor, trapping her in place. 

She screamed in shock and horror as the spikes sliced her hands. She had nothing to do but face the altar, as it now directly spoke to her.

"Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, The Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you? What do you see from that little cage? Speak!" 

She jumped when the voice shouted at her. She started to panic. The voice triggered fear, as her body trembeled, but also another feeling she did not quite understand.

She took a deep breath, and forced the words out of her mouth, "I...I can only see the spikes of this trap." Her legs felt like they were going to give out any moment.

The voice scorned, "Sharp, aren't they? This was the last thing many saw before they were sacrificed in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong. But a Daedric Lord has his enemies, and my rival Boethiah had her priest desecrate the alter. So long since it's tasted blood, until you came." 

Freyja's heartbeat quickened. She felt a dampness between her legs. The rising heat expanding throughout her body and settling down there was...frightening. The voice seemed to arouse her. She tried to hide it, but Molag Bal sensed it. He felt her arousal.

She asked nervously, "Do you want revenge?" 

He replied, "Revenge? No. I want submission. I want the priest who did this to bend his knee and give me his soul! He comes by to perform Boethiah's insulting rites at my altar, but he's been missing. Captured and bound. Left to rot. Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time. And when he does, we will be waiting for him."

The spikes released her. She rested on her knees before gaining the strength to move on. When she lifted herself up, her legs were shakey, struggling to keep herself up. She finally headed out to the Forsworn Camp, worrying about what's to come and praying to the Nine Divines that she won't regret it.


	2. Dominance and Submission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molag Bal uses Freyja as his champion, only to end up taking advantage of her and destroy her mortality...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter. Enjoy!

As Freyja made her way to the Foresworn camp, lustful thoughts ran through her head. Although she didn't see Molag Bal, she heard him and definitely felt his prescence. How could a Daedric Prince make her feel this way?

She finally made it to the camp. She killed every Foresworn that came across her. She found an old man in a small tent with his hands and feet tied. "This must be the priest" she thought to herself.

She approached him, "I'm here to rescue you." He looked up at her suspiciously, "Rescue? No one knew where I was, when I was taken! Who sent you?" 

She lied to him, "Boethiah sent me." He replied, "The Dark mistress? She sent you? Wait, Molag Bal's altar, of course, I have to get to Markarth at once! Cut me loose!"

She was surprised he actually believed her. She cut the binds with a slice of her sword, and they both headed to Markarth.

They made it to the house and made their way to the alter. Freyja stepped back, for she knew what was coming. 

When he made it to the altar, spikes shot straight up and trapped him. He had a look of terror on his face.

He shouted at the demon, "Molag Bal, you think you can best Boethiah's faithful? I have won this contest before!" 

Molag Bal's demonic voice shook the house, "Ah, but I have my own champion this time, Logrolf." 

The priest looked at Freyja who was standing in the back, speechless. "What? You?" 

Molag Bal spoke to Freyja in a lower tone, "Mortal, I give you my mace in all its rusted spitefulness. Crush the spirit from Logrof's bones. Make him bend to me!"

Freyja grasped the mace in her hands, shaking with terror. She didn't want to do this, but she had no other choice than to humiliate the old man. 

She took a deep breath, and repeatedly beat the defenseless priest as he quivered. Tears filled her eyes. She swung the mace as hard as she could, ultimately killing him.

Molag Bal laughed with enjoyment, "You mortals and your frail, limp, pathetic bodies! Try it again!" 

He then revived Logrolf, and Freyja once again had to beat him senseless. Finally, from what felt like forever, Logrolf's spirit finally broke, as he bent before Molag Bal.

He spoke with pain in his voice, "No more! Please! I submit Molag Bal!" 

Molag Bal's voice raised, "You bend to me?" 

Logrolf replied, "Yes." 

"You pledge your soul to me?" 

"Yes." 

Molag Bal's voice raised even higher, "You foresake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?" 

Logrolf hesitated for a moment, "...Yes."

Molag Bal finally lost interest in the torture session and released Logrolf from the spikes. 

His voice lowered almost to a growl, "You're mine now Logrolf." He spoke to Freyja, "Kill him!"

She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, ready to strike the priest again. Logrolf was already weak, and with one hard swing of the mace, she killed him instantly, ending his suffering.

"The Mace of Molag Bal! I give you it's true power, mortal. When your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will be watching. Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming. Take care of the house for me while I'm gone." 

He then laughed a dark, seductive laugh. Freyja accidently let out a small moan. His laugh was the most sensual sound she ever heard, and he knew this.

His presence faded, and she knew she was alone. She realised she had nowhere else to go, so she decided to stay the night. 

She got out of her fur armor and washed the blood off of her, leaving only her under garments and her Amulet of Akotash, which she cherished so much.

She lied down in bed, thinking of how Molag Bal affected her. She felt so guilty and disgusted. Before she knew it, she drifted off to sleep.

***********************************************

Freyja awoke around 3:00 am, feeling that something was in the room, watching her. She looked around the dark abandoned house nervously. She was not alone.

All of a sudden, she felt this essence surround her, like a wave of electrifying energy. It was pleasing to her, yet she had no idea what it was. 

The energy became more tangible, and what felt almost like hands brushed against her soft sking. Her breathing became rapid and her pulse started racing.

A strong force pinned her down violently, with her arms to her sides. She heard her heartbeat in her ears. She tried to move, but the force didn't let go.

Suddenly, she felt actual hands caressing her stomach. They did not feel like normal hands at all. They were strong and unnaturally long. 

What felt like claws gently traced her muscular stomach up to her cleavage, and snapped off her linen bra with one slice. She whimpered when it ripped off her Amulet of Akotash.

Next, it moved down to her linen briefs, and again cut it off with one sharp move. She laid there, her body exposed, and unable to move. Her breathing became shallow. Anxiety washed over her .

The unseen hands smoothed along her body ever so slowly with touches that would've been so gentle, if it were not for the dagger-like claws. She couldn't control her moans. She closed her eyes and arched her back with each teaseful touch. Arousal took over her body and she became wetter between her legs.

The hands moved down to her thighs, never touching that one spot where she desired to be touched. Right when she felt the pre-orgasmic shivers, they stopped. She opened her eyes and looked around the room, still unable to move.

At that moment, something heavy on top of her held her down. She screamed at the top of her voice and tried her hardest to break free. That same deep, sinister, yet seductive voice whispered in her ear, "Calm yourself, little one. Do not fear. I felt your heat the moment I spoke to you. I know how much you desire me."

She knew then who it was; Molag Bal, The King of Rape. That sickening feeling crept in her stomach again. She heard about how he rapes the women in the most degrading way possible in their ritual to become pure-blooded vampires, and how he brutally raped the Nedic virgin who emerged as the first vampire in history. Disgusting and horrifying visions of rape and corruption flashed in her mind. She couldn't block them out no matter how hard she tried.

Repulsed by the visions, Freyja panicked and screamed, "No! Please! Let me go! Please don't take my virginity!" She squirmed and writhed underneath the force that held her down. 

Molag Bal enjoyed it. He laughed at how helpless she was. He knew she was a virgin, and he knew how pure she was. He wanted to break her. He wanted to make her beg for him.

"Such an eager attempt to escape!" He said with his voice filled with amuesment, "But your body says otherwise, mortal." She stopped moving. The visions started to fade.

The sound of his voice affected her in ways she never felt before. She held her breath and tried not to make a sound, but a small moan escaped her lips.

Molag Bal spoke softly to her, "Do not fret, my precious champion. Let me take you. I know you want me to invade your body. I see it in your eyes. Don't you dare deny it." 

She trembled in his embrace. His hand stroked her face and hair, admiring her beauty and child-like innocence. He could clearly see why so many mortals were attracted to her. She was beautiful indeed, and he wanted her so much as a prized possession. He wanted this beautiful mortal all to himself. "You are a stunning little thing. I must admit, you have left quite an impression on me." There was a hint of affection in his voice, giving her some sense of security. For a moment he actually felt a fondness for her, but he quickly pushed it aside. The last thing he wanted was to get attached to a pathetic mortal. 

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me? Please leave me alone!" She pleaded softly. 

He knew that a part of her really didn't want him to leave her. He wondered why mortals can be so complicated.

A clawed finger pressed against her lips, "Shh, just relax and clear your mind. It is best if you do not try to fight me. You're not going to get out of this so easily. I want you to submit to me. I need to hear you begging for release."

His threatening demand inflamed a deep, intense fear within her. He ran his claws gently along her spine, sending chills throughout her body. He felt her reaction. Oh, he desired so much to ravage and dominate her young, delicate self. She was so fragile, it intoxicated him. He growled and smiled darkly at the thought of destroying her innocence. He had to have her so much, it became an aching need.

Again, his hands roamed all over her body. She spread her legs, eagerly wanting him to touch her there. 

He slid his member up and down, teasing her clitoris and her opening. She tensed up and whimpered. "P-please...stop..." She spoke between her heavy breathing.

"Oh, but you don't want me to stop, don't you little one? I know you like this. Your body is yearning for me. I can feel it." He almost whispered those words. His voice was beginning to break her.

She gritted her teeth and clawed the sheets in frustration. Her clitoris throbbed painfully.

She groaned as her sexual tension sparked even higher. She just couldn't take the torture anymore. 

Finally, she screamed with desperation in her voice, "Please! Take me! I'm begging you! Please! I submit to you! I submit!"

Molag Bal laughed as she cried out to him. She was so unbearably aroused to the point that it literally hurt her. He ravished in her torment.

With a growl, he whispered harshly in her ear, "You are mine, little one." He had claimed her body, and now it's his time to take advantage of her.

As she looked up, she saw an outline of an apparition on top of her, becoming more visible. Her body froze, petrified with fear at the ghastly horned beast on top of her with an evil, lustful smirk across his face.

When she screamed with terror, a long snake-like tongue slithered up her neck and into her mouth. She struggled to breathe as it slithered down her throat, causing her to choke and cry. She never felt so humiliated. She sobbed and gasped for air when he finally pulled his forked tongue out of her mouth.

He laughed and mocked her, "That's it, my sweet little pet, cry for me!" A sadistic, fiery lust ignited within him from hearing her cry in humiliation. He took pleasure in every single second of it.

She lied there trying to catch her breath, until she felt his tip at her opening. She winced and let out a scream as he entered her.

He began to move rhythmically inside her. The pain slowly turned to pleasure. Her mind and body relaxed, completely surrendering herself to Molag Bal. Her soft moans filled the empty room. This was the most blissful feeling she had in her entire life. The King of Rape had dominated her body, yet so carefully.

He delighted in the feeling of holding her down as she writhed and trembled in his grip, and hearing her moan softly, trying to keep them in, from the impossible pleasure he gave to her. The look of both terror and ecstasy in her eyes was exhilarating to him.

She felt the immeasurable power and domination he had over her. She had no way of escaping from him. He made it clear that she belonged to him.

He continued to fondle her while tenderly thrusting into her. With her arms still pinned to her sides, she clutched the sheets tightly with her hands. His pace quickened as he thrusted deeper.

He grabbed her with force and ejaculated his seed deep inside her. He let out an inhuman growl and bit her hard on her neck. Streams of blood trickled down from her neck. He clawed her back, leaving more trails of blood and causing her to let out a shriek of pain.

She threw her head back and screamed her pleasure to the Daedric Prince as an intense orgasm hit her. Her whole body convulsed beneath him. She tightened her muscles around him, feeling the throbbing of his member. He ejaculated abnormal amounts of his seed and it almost burned like acid.

Her back arched as he confinued to suck the blood from her neck. Tears filled her eyes and fell down her face. It was excruciatingly painful, yet immensely pleasurable. She winced and let out a sigh of pain and pleasure as she felt the blood being drawn from her. She closed her eyes while listening to her heartbeat steadily slow down.

As he finished ejaculating, he pulled his fanged teeth out from her vain, then licked the blood off her neck with his overly-extended tongue. He wiped away her tears, almost in a caring manner, then gently pulled out of her.

He stared at her with a hellish grin on his face, knowing he conquered her body. His gaze stirred overwhelming fear within her. She was bound to him. He shed a drop of his blood on her forehead as a symbol of power. 

He leaned close to her ear and whispered softly, "Rest now, my champion." He then vanished without saying another word.

Her vision began to blur and she felt extremely drained. She was slowly losing her humanity. The bright, passionate fire filled with life in her eyes faded to a dark, cold hunger. Her flesh prickled with a chilling sensation as it turned to a paler shade. Almighty power and immortality ran through her icy veins. She can almost feel the burning, uncontrollable thirst for blood. She was a Daughter of Coldharbour now.

Her mind went unconscious as death took ahold of her, only to arise in the catastrophe when tomorrow night falls in all her undead glory, for she won't be the same innocent young Nord she was before.


End file.
